


The Importance of Being Bruno

by Merkwerkee



Series: Being Bruno Hamilton [32]
Category: Masters of the Metaverse
Genre: S5 E4, metapilots doing metapilot things, slice of time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-02-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:14:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22854541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merkwerkee/pseuds/Merkwerkee
Summary: For Bruno's first cognizant trip into the Metaverse, it's a bit of a bumpy ride
Series: Being Bruno Hamilton [32]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1643020





	The Importance of Being Bruno

No matter how many times he heard it - from Rhodes, from his teammates, from his enemies - Bruno Hamilton wasn’t a “pilot.”

At least, he didn’t feel like one. He could fly any sort of aircraft built after the second World War, of course, and had a variety of aircraft and naval licenses he maintained under clean pseudonyms in half a dozen countries. Hell, he’d even sailed out of Jiediaosha Bay on an authentic recreation of a 19th century Chinese junk for reasons still not disclosable to the general public.

But these people his granddaughter had fallen in with, these pilots with their superhuman abilities….he couldn’t say he felt like one of them. While he was well-used to pushing through pain, the memory of going out into what they called the Metaverse was somewhat hazy. Perhaps it’d been the gut shot, or the damage the person he’d jumped in to - Blue? Someone had yelled that when he’d called out to Andi but he couldn’t quite remember - had taken before his arrival, but that trip hadn’t felt real somehow. Like he’d wake up and it would have been a dream no matter what had happened in Nevada.

This, however, was no dream. This time, Bruno Hamilton had stepped into a metapod with the full knowledge of what was supposed to happen when he did. This time, Bruno Hamilton had a clear-cut mission and a team to do it with.

This time, Bruno Hamilton had his granddaughter with him.

With that disquieting thought, Bruno Hamilton had been launched into the Metaverse.

Arriving in the body of Michael O'Connor was…..an experience. Bruno was no stranger to the PTSD rattling around in the kid’s skull - _god_ he was young - but it wasn’t _his_ trauma. A tidal wave of desperate worry, anger, and panic flooded over Bruno until he was drowning in it, forcibly a passenger in the avatar he’d been sent to. Visions of burned-out buildings kept trying to overwhelm Michael, sirens turning into the whistle of incoming fire and then back into sirens; above it all, burning with the passion of a younger man was anger at what Aunt Mary had done to their family.

Michael looked over his siblings; Faye was drinking again - she never seemed to stop, these days, eyes desperate for more until they grew vacant in stupor - while Danny was looking at his gun like the thing was about to bite him. The first kill was never easy, and Danny was young even among the kids Michael’d been sent to war with. The ones who hadn’t come home. 

Bruno, meanwhile, saw Aquamarine taking a healthy slug of whiskey, not that he could blame her after nine weeks in solitary; the last person he’d rescued from less than a week in solitary had been a raving mess, psyche so damaged he’d been invalided out. Bruno’s deep concern for Aquamarine’s mental state blended so well with Michael’s worry for his sister that Bruno himself couldn’t say where one began and the other ended. Brushing off the thought as a concern for later, Bruno evaluated Thomas through Michael’s eyes as the man checked on his brother. Thomas seemed more alert than the rest of them, his extremely characteristic speech pattern breaking the rolling brogue Michael knew his brother to speak in like rocks in a field.

Bruno considered that as Thomas broke and ran like a rabbit; Thomas clearly wasn’t overwhelmed by his avatar, Bruno recognizing the calculation in his gaze before he’d taken off. Michael lurched off into pursuit, caught flat-footed by his brother’s sudden movement and another wave of deep concern for his youngest sibling - _what if Danny had broken like so many of the others had?_ \- washed Bruno back into the depths of the skull they shared. Visions of blackened, stinking mud coming in and out of focus through bilious gases overcame Bruno for several moments until the familiar weight of a gun in Michael’s hand gave him something to hold on to while he dragged himself out of it.

Bruno watched as Thomas faked several slugs of whiskey - good plan, the kid he was in probably weighed 100 lbs soaking wet, didn’t need to be drunk on job - while Michael bickered with Mary. He could feel Michael’s anger at Mary, at the situation, at the mobsters who ran Atlantic City with an iron fist, and his resolve stiffened. If Thomas could control his avatar without being overwhelmed he, Bruno Hamilton, could do no less.

Bruno gathered himself and surged forward, ruthlessly compartmentalizing the feelings coursing through their shared veins. After everything, he was _very_ good at it; visions of death and destruction, the lingering odor of mustard gas, and the whistle of mortar fire were all shoved down into a deep, dark hole that also contained burning yellow sands and a toxic, chokingly green jungle. The panic got shoved in a box to be dealt with later, if the kid ever got one; all it would do now is distract from the mission and ruin his aim.

The frazzling worry and pulsing anger about Michael’s family and their situation was taken and shoved into a priorities matrix; highest priority was Andi, Bruno’s granddaughter. Her health and safety, especially after her behavior during the long weeks in prison, was his number one priority. Next highest was the mission; Bruno had never had cause to put the mission second, but he couldn’t bring himself to commit to any plan that might end up with Andi dead or incarcerated again.

Third was Aquamarine; Bruno would help her as best he could, largely for Andi’s sake, but if she snapped like others he’d encountered in similar circumstances he’d neutralize her without hesitation. If nonlethal methods failed, he’d put her down if he had to. Solitary did strange things to a person’s mind, and he’d not tolerate any threats to Andi or their overriding mission objective.

Fourth was Thomas; the guy seemed like he could take care of himself reasonably well and if he was a little strange, Bruno’d worked with stranger both in and out of the army. That Zenda, though - the man was a snake, through and through, and his first priority was himself. Not to be relied on, but he was their only source of food, material, and information. A secondary objective to keep safe, rather than a teammate to be relied upon.

As Bruno’s years of training imposed order on the mind around him, he could feel Michael be swept to the back of their shared mind. The whole exercise hadn’t taken long; a few seconds at most had restored the clear, razor-edged focus Bruno made sure to bring to every mission. Taking the opportunity to roll the kinks out of his neck, he did a quick sweep of the burned-out distillery they’d found themselves in. “Alright people, I need answers. Where do we get Zenda’s device and how do we get to the target?”

Being in control felt _good_.


End file.
